


Cards

by orlesiantitans



Series: 100 Themes [13]
Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Doesn't have the same ring to it, F/M, Strip Poker, Strip Wicked Grace?, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-16
Updated: 2015-12-16
Packaged: 2018-05-07 02:35:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5440289
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orlesiantitans/pseuds/orlesiantitans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malika had moved into her Kirkwall mansion shortly after Skyhold had been cleared out, bidding farewell to Cullen, Leliana and Josie with promises to keep in touch before leaving them for good.</p><p>She’d not really seen Varric since arriving, aside from one visit shortly after she arrived, offering a bottle of wine and some chocolate as a ‘housewarming gift’. He hadn’t been able to stay though, leaving with an apologetic ‘duty calls’ and a promise to come by when he next could- which turned out to be around a month later.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cards

Malika had moved into her Kirkwall mansion shortly after Skyhold had been cleared out, bidding farewell to Cullen, Leliana and Josie with promises to keep in touch before leaving them for good.

She’d not really seen Varric since arriving, aside from one visit shortly after she arrived, offering a bottle of wine and some chocolate as a ‘housewarming gift’. He hadn’t been able to stay though, leaving with an apologetic ‘duty calls’ and a promise to come by when he next could- which turned out to be around a month later.

Kirkwall, it turned out, must have been a difficult city to be Viscount of. It seemed she couldn’t turn onto a street without being attacked by bandits or slavers, and she’d learned early on that taking her daggers with her never hurt (her, anyway. It _did_ hurt those who attempted to attack). Despite that, she actually _enjoyed_ living in Kirkwall. Hawke- it turned out- had been returned to Kirkwall battered and bruised shortly after Malika had finished up in the Arbor Wilds, and had ended up spending a lot of time with the former Inquisitor whenever Fenris was out of town- which seemed to be quite frequently due to ‘an unexpected rise in slavers’. Malika, for her part, had her suspicions it was anything but unexpected- Solas’ return would have no doubt led to many more escapees from the clutches of Tevinter magisters. Dorian, well, he’d all but confirmed it.

Regardless, most _nights_ she spent alone, and she was okay with that. It was a far cry from the hustle and bustle of Skyhold, when she wasn’t ever really alone until she stumbled up to her quarters, exhausted, and passed out on her pillows.

These days, she had the opportunity to do more trivial things. Like reading. She’d had next to no time for reading back when she was the Inquisitor- it had taken her five months to finish ‘Tale of the Champion’ and longer to finish ‘Swords and Shields’ when she borrowed it from Cassandra (and she had to agree with the general populace on its’ quality- it was absolutely _horrendous_ ). But in the last month or so, she’d found herself doing nothing _but_ reading, and as such she’d finished eight books since she arrived in Kirkwall.

It was during one of the nights where she’d finished one book and was mourning the loss of her chess partner due to the fact she couldn’t go get a book at night to stave off the boredom (with all the stalls closed during the day) that a knock came at her door.

She all but jumped out of her seat, fully expecting to see Hawke at her door, but visibly started when she saw Varric.

“Hey, your Inquisitorialness!” he said, and she furrowed her brow in mock confusion.

“I’m sorry? Who are you? Your face looks _vaguely_ familiar but it must’ve been a very long time since I last saw you…”

Varric just grinned and held up his hands. A bottle of wine was held in one, and cards in the other.

“Forgiven?” he asked, and Malika grinned back.

With a nod, he entered, and she subtly attempted to turn her prosthetic. Dagna had fitted it for her at Sera’s insistence, and while it worked almost as well as the real thing, it could occasionally get a little achy at the join.

She sat down across from him, and then made to stand again, “I don’t have any glasses, I‘ll just go…”

She felt a hand close around her wrist (her real one) and heard the warm voice behind her.

“We’re grown ups in _Kirkwall_ , Malika. We drink out of the bottle,” he retorted, and she glanced over her shoulder with a grin. Back in Skyhold, they only ever ate or drank together on the rare occasions Josie called a meeting with the whole of the Inner Circle. She knew for a fact that if she’d attempted to drink out of the bottle _then_ , she would have received a slap on the hand from the ambassador herself or Vivienne, and a hushed, frustrated whisper of ‘manners’. But, dammit, she was a surfacer, a former _Carta member_. She was not some _Orlesian_ comtesse (and she almost giggled at the thought of herself in a delicate gown, talking in delicate, lilting tones to faceless servants- she was a comtesse of Kirkwall, and that was a different kettle of fish altogether), and she was made to drink out of the bottle. Goblets were just far too easy to break.

She sat down at the table, the bottle between herself and Varric, and raised her eyebrows as her fellow dwarf began to deal the cards.

“So tell me, Tethras, what’re we playing for? I believe clothing is _probably_ a fair deal,” she smirked as he raised his eyebrows, holding out a hand for her to shake.

“I’ll go for that so long as I get them _back_ when I’m finished. Running naked through Skyhold is one thing, in Kirkwall it’s _quite another_. I remember Blondie once lost every last piece of his clothes to Hawke, would’ve been dead if he hadn’t been a mage,” and a shadow passed over his eyes at the mention of ‘Blondie’. She knew who he was, of course, _everyone_ with ears knew about Anders, the mage who blew up the Chantry. She’d even met him once, when she was waiting to board for Kirkwall. Hawke had crossed the Waking Sea with her, and when they’d been waiting at port a rugged looking blonde man had been standing off to one side, not looking ready to board nor like he had any purpose at all. But when Hawke had looked over at that gaunt, thin man (“He’s lost a lot of weight, and more stubble,” had been the confession later), and said his name.

That had led to panic in the man’s eyes, before he’d said “Hawke?!” with an equal amount of disbelief before being led off to talk somewhere else. Malika had later been told he’d gone on the run- helping where he could, to save those in the war he’d caused, but had no plans to return to Kirkwall. Too dangerous.

Varric, for his part, did actually seem to miss the mage, though he never said it outright. Malika suspected it was too hard for him to think of- the two of them had been friends after all. But the sad look in his eyes, the set of his shoulders- well, that was just unacceptable. So instead of letting him mope about it, she managed to summon up a smile.

“Deal. But in return for my kindness, you are meeting me at the Hanged Man next week and buying every round,” she smirked. He returned the look and looked down at his hand, expression not changing. In return, she did the same, and so the game began.

It took an embarrassingly small amount of time for her to end up mostly naked. Her insides were warm- but she wasn’t drunk. Unfortunately, playing drinking games with Bull had increased her tolerance for alcohol tenfold- not that it had _ever_ been low. She wondered if she’d ever really know drunkenness again.

Varric had his shirt off, but his trousers were still present. She envied him, sitting there in only the lower half of her smallclothes, though felt a slight swell of pride at the not-so-subtle glances Varric had been focusing on her breasts. It was when she lost again that she threw the cards down on the table and let out a sigh, shaking her head.

“I’m not getting naked for you, Tethras. You win,” she told him, and he raised his eyebrows, slowly shaking his head.

His eyes were open in mock-sympathy when he replied, “I did win, but rules are rules…”

She sighed and took them off, throwing them at his face. It was worth it, for the look of shock he gave before his features rearranged themselves into a lazy grin.

“Why, Cadash, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were seducing me.”

Her cheeks flushed, and she looked down at her lap before back up at him. That hadn’t been her intention, but he had this _flirtatious_ look in his eyes and it was a shock. She briefly wondered at it, he’d never shown any interest in her back when they were in the Inquisition, but then she remembered. _Bianca_. And without her being an option, something he’d just accepted, he was making some kind of move.

She rounded the table and dropped unceremoniously onto his lap, raising her eyebrows at the feeling of something hard pressing at her belly.

“That _wasn’t_ my intention, but I must say that it has just raised itself onto my agenda. As it has yours, unless you’ve got another bottle of wine in there.”

He grinned and pulled her lips down onto his.


End file.
